


She's Back

by sangheilinerd



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), Disney Duck Universe, DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major Original Character(s), Military, Military Uniforms, Navy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:01:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29257134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sangheilinerd/pseuds/sangheilinerd
Summary: “He was in St. Canard. Donald was visiting Friend Drake and Friend Launchpad. And thensheattacked.” He choked back a heavy sob. Falling to his knees and gently laid Donald on the floor. The stork demigod just seemed to collapse in on himself. “I…I wasn’t…I couldn’t…It all happened so fast, Friend Beakly. You have to believe me. I did all I could, which is much, I admit, but…b…” He broke down into unintelligible sobbing and fell over into the fetal position eyes weeping like Niagara and then some.
Relationships: Daisy Duck/Donald Duck, Donald Duck/Storkules one sided, Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera/Gyro Gearloose
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok! So I think this marks my first ever fic in DuckTales. \o/ I feel like I got Drama Queen Storkules. But I'm not sure I characterized anybody else correctly. Advice and _constructive_ criticism are welcome.

Gyro sat outside in the waiting room. He bounced his leg in impatience and worry. Why hadn’t the doctors come to talk to him yet. He was Fenton’s husband after all. He knew the laws had changed about gay marriage only recently, but he would have thought that the marriage certificate would have been enough for the hospital to consider him family.

“Will you stop that, mi’ijo? He’ll be fine. These kinds of surgeries take time.” Mamá Cabrera chided gently and put her hand on his.

“I know, but…I just…”

“You love him and you worry about him? Sí mi’ijo, ya sé. Te conozco. I know you. You’ve been with Fenton for years. First as his boss. Now as his husband. Relájate and let the doctors work.”

***

Drake Mallard woke up and groaned in pain. “Did anybody get the number of the bus that hit me?” he sighed.

He was quickly enveloped in a bone-crushing hug. “Oh DW! Thank the gods! You’re ok!” Launchpad moaned through his tears. “I thought I’d lost you." He managed past a sob, "He...Drake he's..."

"Gone?" Drake sighed, "How do you think Scrooge is going to take the news?"

"His nephew's Dead, DW."

***

Storkules carried the body of his fallen mortal friend within his beefy arms. He could barely walk such was grief. But the ducklings needed to know. Scrooge needed to know. Daisy needed to know. So still he trudged on. Donald’s limp form—while weighing no more than the average male drake—felt like he held the globe once more in his hands.

He hadn’t been fast enough to help the mortal heroes. He hadn’t been fast enough to help the man he loved. As he carried him through the gates of the McDuck Manor, Zeus saw fit to deepen his mood and let down an oppressive rain to drench him and Donald in rain water. “Really, Father?!” he yelled at the storm.

Beakly opened the door in a fighting stance. Once she saw the state of him. Once she saw the state of Donald. She hurried him inside, “Come in! Come in!” She admonished, “Give me your himation, please, Lord Storkules. And…please… lay him down, dear boy. How long?”

“He was in St. Canard. Donald was visiting Friend Drake and Friend Launchpad. And then _she_ attacked.” He choked back a heavy sob. Falling to his knees and gently laid Donald on the floor. The stork demigod just seemed to collapse in on himself. “I…I wasn’t…I couldn’t…It all happened so fast, Friend Beakly. You have to believe me. I did all I could, which is much, I admit, but…b…” He broke down into unintelligible sobbing and fell over into the fetal position eyes weeping like Niagara and then some.

The still form of Donald lay on the floor motionless, his eyes closed and—unsurprisingly—covered in silver _drachmae_ coins.

“Beakly, is everything al—” Daisy stands at the top of the central stair. Staring down at the rain-soaked corpse now laying in the foyer. Of the ancient McDuck Manor and she choked back a sob. Her eyes narrowed on Storkules who shrunk under her penetrating gaze. “What did you do to my husband you lousy, no good, two-bit, scoundrel?!” She growled between a clenched beak. Her face was redder than a rose. It was frightening to behold.

She was riling herself up when Beakly’s hand fell on her shoulder. “He failed in trying to _save_ Donald. Some female he did not specify. Only ‘her.’ Look at him, dear. He’s distraught because he couldn’t save him. Not because he hurt him.”

She cooled herself and looked to Storkules who was now childishly sucking on his thumb and rocking back and forth. “You really did love him, didn’t you, you big oaf.”

“Aye, Friend Daisy. Had he returned my affections I would have whisked him away to Olympus.”

“But he chose me. And you just did your damnedest to be as good of a friend as you could be. Storkules, how has Eros been so cruel to you?” She asked gently.

“All my family is cruel to me. It was mumma’s doing. She was always jealous of my birth mother stealing Zeus from her.”

Daisy now stroked Storkules’ back as she finally let her own tears fall. “He…He…He’s really gone!” She broke down, too.

“C’mon, Mom. We gotta go now before—Don…Don…Don…” Huey and Della came rushing down the stairs before stopping in their tracks, stiff as boards. “Mom, that can’t be Uncle…It’s no…No no no no no no no no no no. He can’t be. There’s gotta be a way! He can’t be! He can’t be…gone.” The last word was barely whispered it was so quiet. His head hung from limp shoulders as he fell to his knees. His wanton crying slowly turning to outright wailing in grief. His hat and guidebook falling from his head and tumbling down a few steps and he didn’t seem to care.

“Huey! What’s all that rack—” Scrooge came a-clackin’ into the room but his expression of anger fell flat on his face. There was his nephew. On the floor. Absolutely dead as a door nail. “Oh.”

Scrooge ascended the steps where his niece and grandnephew were currently wrapped in each other’s arms practically wailing like the sirens of the deep. When he got there, he noticed that Louie and Dewey were on the landing looking completely shattered. “C’mere lads. Ye cannae grieve if dunney see him properly.” The two preteen ducks immediately ran to their great uncle hugging him and beginning to shed tears of their own.

***

Launchpad carried Drake out of the hospital like he was a bride from the Reception hall. As endearing as his love’s gesture was, it hurt him more than it helped. “LP! That hurts, put me back in the—” Both their smartwatches pinged. W.A.N.D.A Alerting them to a call from McDuck Manor. Drake clicked on the receive button and Scrooge appeared onscreen. “Mr. McDuck, Is ev—”

“Nay, lads. You know bloody damn well thing ain’ aright. My nephew is _dead!_ And according to Storkules he was visiting you when some unknown female the brute will only refer to as an emphatic ‘her’ or ‘she’ attacked St. Canard. Why was I not informed by W.A.N.D.A?’

Drake looked at Launchpad who looked at Drake. They both sighed, looking utterly defeated, “We got our collective tails handed to us, sir. Unfortunately, Donald got hit in the crossfire. It’s…Da Spell. Sir. She’s back.”


	2. The Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Donald was a wonderful duck. A man who only cared for his family. His sons. The three little ducklings which were always on his mind. Huey, Dewey, and Louie, your uncle loved you more than anything. You were his sole reason for life. You were as much his sons as his nephews. And I think that he would have wanted you three to remember him as your father. The man who raised you into the three sweet obnoxious little ducklings that you are.” She intoned, laughing at the last part through her tears. “He loved you boys.” She stepped down.

Webby skipped through the crowded thoroughfares of the mall’s central building with her friends. The little white duckling happy and carefree. Her best friends following closely behind her, small smiles at seeing Webby being a regular preteen girl for once. Violet looked over at Lena, though when all of a sudden Lena’s eyes blacked out. 

“Lena, your eyes! What’s happening?” 

“No no no no no no no no! She can’t be! I thought we destroyed her. Webby, we gotta go to your house. Now!” Lena said, not quite in a trance, but her voice did have a dream-like quality to it. 

Webbigail turned around and when she saw Lena’s eyes black as coal, her face hardened. She got out her phone and called her grandmother “Gramma?...What?! NO! He’s...He’s really?” 

“What is it, Webby?” Violet asked as Webby sank to her knees. Her face having gone completely blank in apparent shock. Her hands falling limply to her sides and her phone slipping through her fingers. 

“Don...Uncle Donald...he’s...oh my gods he’s gone!” She said. She wouldn’t look at either of them. Her face an emotionless blank slate. 

Lena and Violet looked at each other in silent shock. Then they both went and helped Webby to her feet. Lena grabbed the phone, “Hi, Mrs. B. It’s Lena...Was it _her?..._ I felt it. Yeah, my eyes won’t go back to normal...Yeah. A few are starting to stare...Yeah. Could you?...That would be great...Yeah, we’ll be outside the main entrance...Ok see you then.” 

*** 

Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera woke with a groan. “Aye, ¡Mierda! Me duele todo.” He whispered to himself. He looked around and noticed he was in a hospital room. Gyro sleeping sprawled out on one of the visitor’s chairs snoring lightly. He saw his mother leaning against the door frame. Her face was like a mask of unemotional professionalism. He hated when she turned that look on him. “Hi, M’má.” 

“ _Mi_ _pollito_ _, pinche idiota_ _chingado_! What the hell were you thinking? You and Drake can’t take on Da Spell alone. She’s a grade-A psycho with magical powers. You’re a boy in a suit. And Drake’s just a stuntman who’s got delusions of grandeur.” 

He cringed. M’má rarely cussed. Let alone that particular phrase. “Mom, we had to help. That’s wha--” 

“You don’t think I know that, pollito? I just worry about you. You don’t have a badge. You barely have enough training in that damn suit to take on the small time criminals. This is Magica Da Spell the woman who almost took over Duckberg despite Scrooge and company’s best efforts.” 

“Srita. Cabrera, please.” Gyro said groggily as he woke. “Fenton lives GizmoDuck. I’ve never seen him happier than in that armor. Helping people. Doing what’s right. Trying to make you—make me—proud of him. He does this for you.” 

She sighs dramatically “Me haces orgullosa en efecto, mi pollito. I just...” 

Drake appeared in the doorway moments later, “Hate to interrupt. Scrooge needs to see us at the Manor immediately.” Drake intoned, Launchpad appearing in the doorway moments later with keys in hand. “I know that wearing the suit right now is probably a bad idea, Fen. So...I think this is the best route. Loathe as I am to let LP drive.” 

*** 

Zeus was laying it on thick today. The rain poured down from the heavens in thick sheets. So much so that the assembled friends and family worried at the states of their umbrellas. They were on the pier. Donald’s casket on a small dais. The flag draped over the casket. Scrooge had an arm draped over Della’s shoulder as Della held Huey and Dewey against her right leg and Louie against her left. Everyone was in black attire. Lacy dresses for the girls with veils and freshly starched, stiff suits for the boys. Even Storkules had donned a black himation. 

The other two Caballeros were actually there. Surprising the miserly old duck. Panchito wore a suit and he held a black sombrero in his hands. Over the suit he wore a poncho with a subdued pattern in blacks and greys. It was probably the most professional that Scrooge had ever seen the rooster. 

There was a small contingent of Navy Sailors in dress blues there to handle the military ceremony. The folding and handing off of the flag. The 21-gun salute. And the burial-at-sea. The priest stepped up before the dais. “Thank you all for coming. Including you, Lord Storkules. Lady Selene.” He intoned. “Today we celebrate the life of Donald Fauntleroy Duck. We send him on his Journey to Lord Hades and Elysium today with the traditional burial-at-sea. Commander?” 

A stately looking duck in Navy Dress Blues stepped forward. “Every Sailor in the Navy will receive a burial-at-sea if he or the family so requests. As Scrooge and Della have. Donald was a great sailor. He was a great friend. And a wonderful ally. He always struggled with the ladies. They just couldn’t quite understand him.” 

The crowd laughed sadly. 

“He was involved in much that the government doesn’t want me to talk about, so I won’t. Just know that Donald’s bravery and his actions earned him three bronze and two silver stars. A Navy and Marine Corps Commendation Medal. And three purple hearts. He was instrumental in many of our overseas operations.” The commander stepped down. Turned and faced the casket and saluted slowly and methodically. He about-faced and marched down the docks to prepare the 21-gun salute. 

“Firing Party, Atten-hut!...Parade...Rest!” The commander could be heard issuing the commands. 

He went to each of the seven sailors and inspected each of the sailors uniforms. Slowly inclining his head down and bringing it up before stepping over to the next sailor. After he inspected the last sailor hereturned to a position in front of and in the center of the firing party. 

“Firing Party, Atten-hut!” The slap of rifles slapping against thighs rang throughout the pier. 

“Right..Face!” The firing party turned right in unison. “Port...Arms!” They lifted their rifles to their chest, one hand holding the buffer tube of their rifles the other on the forward handguard. 

“Ready...Step!” The firing party began marching forward in single file. With the commander just off to the side. They marched onto the dock itself and then when they got to about midway down the commander announced, “Mark-time...March!” And the sailors stopped, marching in place. 

“Firing Party, Halt!” They stopped. “Order... Arms!” The rifles were brought down to the ground and held by their muzzles with the butts resting against the ground and the magazines facing forward. “Left... Face!” They turned to their lefts so that they faced the commander. 

“Dress right...Dress!” The firing party held out their right arms at shoulder height so that their fingertips touched the shoulder of the sailor next to them. The commander walked to the furthest left of the firing party and looked at the line of men to see if they were in the correct position before returning to his place in front of the men. 

“Ready...Front!” The sailors dropped their arms. And the commander walked around the party and turned to face their same direction. 

“Ceremonial At..Ease!” The men, still holding their rifles at their side, widened their stance so their feet were a shoulder width apart and they brought their unencumbered hand behind their back to rest just above their tails. They then brought their rifles’ muzzles to the center of their bodies and grabbed them with both gloved hands. 

“Firing...Party” The sailors returned their hand behind their back and their rifles to their initial position. “Atten-hut!” They returned to attention the slap of their hands against their thighs fairly noticible in the quiet. 

The commander saluted the casket in that slow, methodical manner once again. When his hand returned to his side he shouted, “Present...Arms!” Sailors brought their rifles to the center of their bodies. “Order...Arms!” They dropped their rifles to their side once again. “Parade...Rest!” The rifles were tilted forward and the sailors returned to the ‘parade-rest’ body position. 

“Firing Party...Atten-hut!” The commander shouted. The sailors returned to attention. “Stand by...” 

“Ready.” The sailors brought their rifles to their chests again. Their right hand on the pistol grip, un-safetying the weapons, their left on the forward handguard. 

“Aim” The rifles are shouldered and pointed at a 45-degree angle skyward. 

“Fire” The trigger is depressed and the report rings throughout the pier. 

“Ready” The rifle’s dropped to its ‘ready’ position and the sailors rack the charging handle. A case goes flying out of each of their ejection ports. Pinging of the cement of the dock. 

“Aim” Again the rifles are shouldered. 

“Fire.” Seven more bangs ring through the pier. 

“Ready.” Again, the rifles are returned to ready condition. Another seven spent shells ping of the cement pier. 

“Aim.” Shouldered. 

“Fire.” And fired. 

“Ready.” The rifles’ charging handles are racked a last time. 

“Present...Arms.” The sailors face forward and bring their rifles to the middle of their bodies, muzzles skyward. Magazine sticking out perpendicularly to the body. The commander does another slow, methodical salute and Taps begins to play. 

Once the song concludes, the commander lowers his hand again and shouts, “Order...Arms!” The rifles are brought to the ground again, held at the sailors’ sides. “Parade...rest.” Rifles tilt forward. Men return to parade rest. 

“Fire Party, Atten-hut!” Attention. “Left-face.” The firing party turns left to face down the dock back the way they came. “Port...arms!” Rifles are brought to the chest. The man at the front of the line takes his rifle, still pointing in the same direction as the rest, by the buffer tube and holds it out to his left. And then side steps to a position between the line of men and the commander. 

“Ready...Step!” The group starts marching back the way they came. The commander grabs the rifle he’s presented as they walk by. The Sailor left behind bends down to grab the brass casings that didn’t bounce off the dock into the water. Then he rejoins his compatriots on the shore. They inspect their rifles and then put them in a temporary rack. Set up by the water. 

The honor guard then returns up to the dais. Marching completely silently. They come up to the casket, march in place for a few seconds. Then turn to face the casket. Four on each side. The Commander on the side of the casket caddy-corner to the glory. They inspect each other’s uniform that same slow, methodical manner as everything Honor Guard seems to be done. Before bending down and devesting the casket of the flag. 

The bugler begins to play “Amazing Grace” on his trumpet. The lone instrument’s melody all the more haunting due to its solitude. Not a single eye remained dry as the sailors folded the flag while the music played. The last note falling as the men tucked the last fold in. The sailor who was holding the flag stood at attention. His lower arms parallel to the ground as he held the flag folded and waiting. 

The Commander saluted the folded flag before holding out his hands to receive it. The sailor handed off the flag. Saluting it before returning to attention. The commander walked over to Daisy, who, at this point, was beside herself with grief. Her makeup running as she cried. The commander presented the flag and intoned, “On behalf of the President of these United States of America, the United States Navy, and a grateful Nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your husband’s honorable and faithful service.” 

Daisy took the flag from the commander. He stood. Saluting the flag before about-facing and rejoining the group. Daisy then got up and began to sing her and Donald’s song, “Hear My Voice.” 

_Hear My Voice._

_As I’m calling out for you!_

_Hear my voice._

_There are things I wish you knew._

_For even if your heart was strange_

_And Hard to understand_

_You gave all that You had for_ _me._

_You help’d me take a stand._

_So, hear my voice._

_As I’m calling out for you._

_So, hear my_ _voice,_

_There are things I wish you knew._

_So, hear my voice._

_So, hear my voice._

“Donald was a wonderful duck. A man who only cared for his family. His sons. The three little ducklings which were always on his mind. Huey, Dewey, and Louie, your uncle loved you more than anything. You were his sole reason for life. You were as much his sons as his nephews. And I think that he would have wanted you three to remember him as your father. The man who raised you into the three sweet obnoxious little ducklings that you are.” She intoned, laughing at the last part through her tears. “He loved you boys.” She stepped down. 

The priest returned to his place and he intoned, “O Lord Hades, please guide our fallen to Elysium that they may bask in the eternal glory of the gods. And that they may rest in peace. We beseech thee. Grant our Donald passage through the Styx that he may finally be at rest.” 

As he ended the prayer, Taps began to play and the dais Donald’s casket was on began to raise, “Please rise.” 

The Casket began to slide from the dais into the water. As the last note of Taps was played, Donald’s casket sunk beneath the waves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. So much research was done. The 21-gun salute and presentation of the folded US Flag to a relative are military honors which any service member is entitled to having at their funeral if they so wish. I watched a few videos on the order of operations. The Burial-at-sea is usually done shipboard and by the crew. It didn't seem right, however not to do it. So I had that be the final piece after the prayer. Since Donald's family knew the (Duckverse's version of the) Greek Gods, personally, I thought it would be smart to pray to them instead of the Christian God. Anywho. Amazing grace is just part of the Military Tradition. That's really the only reason it's in here.
> 
> Daisy's version of the song "Hear my Voice." Is just basically modified as kind of Daisy replying to Donald. Saying you did those things. Thank you. Idk. I thought it would be sweet.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly wasn't planning on doing Major Character Death with the Duck Verse, but it just...makes sense. Donald, Della, and the boys are essentially constantly putting themselves in danger. And as such I figured at some point someone would just be at the wrong place at the wrong time and would get seriously injured or worse.


End file.
